The next morning. They threw a party. Why? I don’t know, I have a good guess for their reasons, but if I learned one thing in my life is to not assume anything about anyone.

Even then, there isn’t really much for me to do aside from going with the flow.

Though, if I am to say something about it.

 

Elven parties are really different.

 

Either that, or this is only strange to me who isn’t used to it. This being normal for a fantasy world, normal for them. And I’m just biased through my experiences in a modern world.

There wasn’t any big firepit or an assortment of tables. Instead, everyone gathered around another place that has a big water spring embedded into a rock wall. A massive tree, more thick and imposing than the already ridiculously big trees in the forest, behind the spring and the rock face. The spring is embellished with carvings into the stone along with wooden framing contouring it. The wood that connects with the carvings in the stone juts out from the wall and creates a crisscrossing ceiling laden with panels of glass, vines growing on top of it providing some shade for the small space surrounding the fountain. The tree covered the whole area with a comfortable amount of shade with its grand canopy, not enough to entirely block out the sun too much, but enough to keep the place well-lit without getting uncomfortable from excess sunlight.

Then, around the open grass and patches of polished stone into the ground, numerous carpets and knee-high tables were set up, without any rhyme or reason, anywhere they liked as people started trickling in. Intermingling and gathering into their own circles as time passed. Each person brought their own food to add to the party in a growing pile in the center of everything. Another group made a makeshift kitchen to the side as some people began bringing fresh ingredients instead.

The food was served on what looked like a sort of self-service, first come basis. The people picking what they want to eat out of the growing banquet, and some others getting other people to pick up food for them, though that was mainly the more elderly and the cooks.

Some people ate standing up. Some sat down on the carpets or cushions. Others used the tables to eat on top of or to hoard dishes they liked. All the while socializing.

‘Socializing… Not something I’m looking forward to.’

After a while, some of them whipped out their instruments which were composed of an assortment of mostly handheld tools, flutes, harp & other similar things, small drums that are easily carried around, and there was one guy shredding a harmonica-looking thing. The music spurred people to bring out clay and glass bottles that smelled like alcohol.

 

Another thing is the… unique fashion.

While a good part of them wore the type of clothes I’m more familiar with, simple shirts, pants, or skirts that are moderately conservative. The rest…

…are certainly a source of cultural shock for me.

I spotted some wearing what essentially were short hotpants and a very form-fitting shirt with open sides, along with either cloaks or capes. There were also those elbow-sleeves that connected to a glove that hung off one finger. One-piece dresses that transitioned to a loincloth that hung off the front and back. Nothing of the blank, easily brandable, clothes that are common to me, but instead, decorations and personal flair were made with the cloth itself, complex patterns and folds, braids and hanging strips. Spats and pantyhoses. Some Victorian-era-looking clothes modified to the fantasy outdoor style. There is even a kid with an honestly ridiculous quantity of belts, looking very edgy and chuunibyou… Though the fact that he was manning a firepit with 3 dozen skewers throws the whole vibe off.

All of that, and things that wouldn’t look off in a cosplay convention. If those are actually everyday wear, with how complex some of them are… The tailors in this world really are something else. 

 

Though, I can’t know for certain if the way these people act is the standard for all Elven-kind around. Again, cannot assume anything about anyone anywhere. I have only witnessed a speck of the wonders of this world so far, after all.

 

The whole festive debacle… Can’t say all the attention was pleasant to me. There were people coming and going all the time to look and greet me, or rather, greet the pair that apparently became responsible for me. The glass-wearing duo, the creepy doctor, and the extrovert woman.

I swear, the both of them…

They go what I’d essentially describe as “yipee mode” at every little thing I do. Especially the woman, with her fawning over me and shoving things at my face.

 

‘...At least the food was good.’

 

The party went on for a good while and ended with some announcements as well as “showing” me for everyone to see.

…being picked up by the armpits like a cat and being lifted up like a shoddy enacting of “Simba” was not.

Just… not, no, nope, nada, nuh-uh.

…Never something am I going to allow to go through again. The whole cheering and applause from the audience, which a big part of was drunk, only served to further kill me with embarrassment.

At least we left shortly after that.

 

——— –– –– -- - -

 

So, uh, my… education? will finally start.

I think so, maybe?... I’m pretty sure... This is what it looks like at least…. I’m just guessing, I’m not actually really sure of anything that has been happening these days…

I’ve been left with what I assume is a wax tablet along with a wooden stick stylus. Though, the wax isn’t very hard. Actually, it is very, very light and easy to scribble on without barely needing any force for the stylus to sink into the wax. There’s also a thick square rod attached to the tablet that I assume is used to “clear” the page.

So, scribble is what I shall do… Until they come back from wherever she went to that is.

I’m sitting on a tall stool at the back of the apothecary where the doctor guy is dancing around me once again, this time, he is filing my horns.

Yes, with that rough iron stick and all, going back and forth with all the grace of a drunk steel grater trying to imitate a violin…

 

He asked nicely and I don’t really see a problem. Or rather, he spent a while just trying to convey what he wanted to do through drawings and mimicking since talking to me is fruitless. But… he’s been at it for a while now… My neck is getting kind of stiff from the fixed position he’s holding one of them, trying to collect whatever powder he can.

 

I let him do as he wanted after extorting him out of his jar of candy as tribute… which is sitting beside me now. *nom* I reach inside and grab another one.

 

Turns out horn, uh… cutting? Trimming? Doesn’t feel too awful, they get in the way and aren’t really that useful to me so I don’t mind what happens to them, though the fact I can feel them indicates that they probably have nerve endings inside them. It’s like getting your nails trimmed or getting your teeth scraped, only they are actually thick and hard as hell.

…Or this guy’s strength is pitiful and they aren’t actually that hard.

Now the things sticking out of my head aren’t as sharp anymore, much to the joy of my victim, though I doubt it will stay like that for long since I feel like they grow back, albeit slowly. On the plus side, if I accidentally fall on someone I don’t want to hurt, they won’t be poked too hard.

…Now that I think about it, if they grow back, aren’t they antlers instead? Horn-shaped antlers? I don’t think the normal animals that have horns grow them back after they get cut out. Who knows? Not me.

 

The doctor in question goes on to separate the little pile of dust he gathered from me into multiple different glass plates and starts to mix and match other substances with them, why? I don’t fucking know and I doubt I want to.

One of the plates flashes with a bright light, filling the room with fumes and sparks. Looking over I see the plate in question broken, and it has a brown mass of… something, slowly growing that is wrapping around the surface it is. It has crystalline growth patterns while also having white strands seeping outwards in multiple directions like roots.

 

What the fuck?

 

‘Excuse me? What kind of god-forsaken drugs are you making within my presence? And with what you extracted from me no less?!’ I look at him with a face of complete revulsion.

The thing in the table starts leaking a yellow liquid and collapsing with its own weight, a rancid smell spreading. He observes the sample with an obsessive glee in his eyes while writing on a nearby binder.

‘No, thank you very much. Nope, I am getting out of here before he gets other ideas.’

 

And that’s when the woman that I was waiting for finally arrived. Along with a pile of books and papers in her hands along with a leather duffel bag.

I cross around her and just go wait outside, leaving whatever it is that happens inside to fate.

 

——— –– –– -- - -

 

I shift and fidget. Giddy while sitting in an outdoor-style classroom as she sets up her own teaching materials.

 

‘Finally! I will be able to formally start to actually learn their language! It has been so frustrating to go back and forth trying to decipher everyone’s intentions.’ Aside from the wax board, I don’t have any sort of dictionary or textbook for me to use, so I don’t think I will be able to use my free time to study when there’s no one available to teach me.

There isn’t much around here, a bench, a table, and a chalkboard between two trees. 

 

Exhaling, she claps her hands to grab my attention.

“Hello, ᛘᛁ#$%ᚾᛅᛘ$;/⩭⩍██%$ ][⫁%Sa&mᛁ raᛁᛋ ᛋᛅ█%$ do][ᛁᚱᛅ,%&×ᛋ ᛏᚱ ᛒᛁᛋᛏ!”

 

I tilt my head in confusion, furrowing my eyebrows. Trying to discern any words from the little amount I know.

 

She repeats herself, this time repeating the same word while pointing at her own face?... Oh!

I point back at her. “Saamyra?”

“Samyra! ᚤ⨊ᛍ!” She says back, giggling to herself.

 

‘So, your name is Samyra!’ an elven name.

 

She repeats slowly, “Sa.my.ra.” pointing to herself.

Then… she points at me. “What ᚢᚽ#$%ᛆᛐ J ⸜%$⸝⠃ᛁ?”

 

‘Is she asking my name?’

 

I intently look into her expectant eyes, the bright green circles boring into me.

 

‘…Oh.’ I freeze.

 

‘She’s asking my name.’ I panic.

‘Do I give her my old name? A name from a world that might as well be dead to me, a name which I have forsaken.’

‘Do I invent a new one? Where would I even start? It wouldn’t feel right... I wouldn’t feel right. It’s one thing to simply have an alias, something for people to identify you as. But a name? It is something earned by birth, something that defines you, that invokes you. A thing with meaning, beyond meaning, with deeper roots.’

‘I would hate to halfheartedly create my own name only to regret it later on… changing names… feels deeply uncomfortable… maybe I am just making a big deal out of nothing.’

‘I’ve been silently agonizing about this all this time… and yet I haven’t been able to come up with a single letter I would want to be called.’

‘My old name… it feels wrong to use it. But, despite already making my decision to relinquish it. It’s something that I still hold so much attachment towards.’

 

‘What even was my name?’

 

“I-I… I…” 

“Hm? Ai?” she repeats, confused by my stuttering.

 

I shake my head. ‘I… I just don’t know anymore…’

 

Not understanding my plight, she goes through the motions of introducing herself again and asks for me to give her a name.

I lower my head.

 

Seeing my state, a flash of realization goes through her facial features, along with confusion, worry, and… anger?

She stands up, goes around the table, and…

Pulls me up from my chair embracing me in a deep hug, planting me in her bosom. Whispering soft nothings and cradling my head.

 

At first, I push back, then I become utterly confused, and then a sorry mess.

A maelstrom of ill thoughts and frustrations.

Thoughts without meaning, fueled by bleeding emotions that stain everything.

Heart and mind melting with chaotic cries that impart imperfect understandings, pieces that can’t fit together crashing against each other.

 

Only then, after time flew by without me noticing…

‘How long have I been crying?’ I touch my drenched cheeks, a splitting headache keeping me awake.

 

My brain relapses, a piece falls into place, but the whole is yet to be. Unbroken, but imperfect.

I feel my whole being settle a little bit more, uncoil, and adjust. Their precious smiles, closure.

I see red and blue, hiding in between the silhouettes of the world. Rooted beneath the veils.

 

——— –– –– -- - -